


ice ice baby

by ohwickedsoul



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Crushes, Ensemble Cast, Hockey, Ice Skating, M/M, Minor Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke - Freeform, Minor Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Minor Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka, bokuto and yachi are my ideal figure skating pair and i'll die on this hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwickedsoul/pseuds/ohwickedsoul
Summary: Akaashi Keiji has the most perfect slapshot known to man.“He really doesn’t,” Kuroo says, amused. But Kuroo also has terrible judgement and terrible hair and he’s secretly in love with a certain tiny, terrifying singles skaterandhe doesn’t know a damn thing about hockey so he can’t eventalk, Bokuto is going to go find someone who will be nice to him.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 44
Kudos: 171
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	1. Chapter 1

Akaashi Keiji has the most perfect slapshot known to man. 

“He really doesn’t,” Kuroo says, amused. But Kuroo also has terrible judgement and terrible hair and he’s secretly in love with a certain tiny, terrifying singles skater _and_ he doesn’t know a damn thing about hockey so he can’t even _talk_ , Bokuto is going to go find someone who will be nice to him. 

When he says all this, Kuroo laughs so hard he snorts. “Who?” He says, grinning. “Who else will listen to you whine about the hockey player who doesn’t know you exist?”

“Yachi will,” Bokuto says stoutly. 

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Yacchan is an angel who is too good for this world,” he concedes. “But even she will agree with me that you are being ridiculous.”

Bokuto makes a loud, aggrieved noise, arches his back, leans forward onto his elbows. “You just don’t want me to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy,” Kuroo protests. He’s got one long leg up on a foam roller, and Bokuto’s unsure if his pained faces are from the knot he’s currently working out of his thigh or from Bokuto’s life-ruining crush. “I just don’t want you to be in love.”

“Why not?” Bokuto whines, giving Kuroo the best puppy-eyes he knows how to. They’re very effective. Yachi swears they should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction. 

Kuroo is unphased. “Love is bad for figure skaters,” Kuroo shrugs. “It’s distracting and makes you complacent.”

“You’re a fucking menace,” a voice comes from behind them, and Bokuto watches Kuroo’s face go white and then color from his neck to his ears with something like glee. “‘Love makes you complacent’? Are you an evil stepmother? What the fuck, Kuroo.”

“Hi Yaku!” Bokuto says, coming out of his splits and onto his knees. “How’s it going?”

“Fabulous,” Yaku says dryly, still eyeing the back of Kuroo’s head. “Don’t listen to this guy, Bokuto. Who’re we talking about?”

“Some hockey player,” Kuroo grouses, finally managing to find his voice. 

“Oh,” Yaku frowns at that. “Ew. Bokuto, don’t fall in love with a hockey player.”

Bokuto groans and flops onto his back. “You guys are _terrible_.” He says to the ceiling. “He’s amazing, I can tell.”

“So you don’t even know this guy?” Yaku asks. “C’mon. Hockey players ruin the ice,” Yaku says. “Go fall in love with someone else who isn’t going to tear up the rink.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Kuroo says. He rolls himself off the foam roller and lands on the floor with a thump. “See, Yakkun agrees with me.”

“I never said that,” Yaku says immediately, and Bokuto tunes them out when they begin bickering. 

The ceiling in the rink is high, studded with bright lights and criss-crossed by metal beams, and Bokuto stares up at it until he has to blink away yellow-green afterimages from the fluorescents. 

He’s not actually in love with Akaashi Keiji- yet- but he’s certainly nursing a big fat crush on him. When you really think about it, Bokuto muses, pulling one knee up to his chest, stretching out his hamstrings, this is definitely, absolutely, almost completely Kuroo’s fault, anyway. 

Last week Bokuto had stayed late in the rink’s gym with Kuroo and Daichi, a trainer there, and when they had finally showered and dragged themselves into street clothes the rink was _packed_.

“What’s going on?” Kuroo said, bemused. He stood on his tiptoes, looked over the packs of people. “The rink doesn’t have public skate tonight.”

“No,” Daichi agreed, rocked back on his heels. “But the hockey team is playing tonight, and they’ve been on fire this season, so people are excited about it.”

“What hockey team?” Bokuto asked. 

“Since when the hell do we have a hockey team?” Kuroo said at the same time. 

Daichi shook his head. “Do you guys- do you not pay any attention to what happens at the rink? Or do you guys have the most impressive figure skating blinders known to man on? You don’t know what’s going on?” He asked. “Like, at all?”

Kuroo and Bokuto exchanged looks, shrugged. “No,” they said in unison.

Daichi sighed, looked at the ceiling for a brief moment. “It’s an AHL team,” he said. “Their home rink used to be next town over, but they’re going through some major renovations, so they’re here for the season.”

“Ugh,” Kuroo said. “So that’s why the ice has been trash lately.”

Daichi elbowed him in the ribs. “Hush your mouth,” he said, but he was smiling. “They’re good for the rink, and they’re fun to watch.” He paused for a moment. “You guys wanna watch the game? I can get Suga to give us some tickets.”

Kuroo and Bokuto looked at each other. It was Thursday night, and all that awaited them at their apartment was an evening of painful rolling out via lacrosse ball. “Why not. You like hockey, I like not being bored at the apartment, it’s a win-win.” Kuroo said. “Fuck it. Hockey night.”

Daichi grinned and ducked behind an employee’s only door and came out a few minutes later, distinctly redder in the face but clutching three tickets. “Lover boy holding you up?” Kuroo said, amused. 

Bokuto bounced on his toes, grabbed the profferred ticket. “I’m excited! I’ve never seen a hockey game in real life,” he said. 

“How?” Daichi said, shaking his head as they pushed through the double doors- they were headed up into the nosebleeds. Suga was good, but he couldn’t work miracles. “You live on the ice, Bokuto. And I’ve literally seen you in a Penguins jersey.”

“We don’t _associate_ with hockey jocks,” Kuroo sniffed, lifting his nose up. He broke into his hoarse hyena laugh a second later when Daichi whacked him across the stomach. 

“Just never worked out, I guess,” Bokuto said as they awkwardly shuffled into the row. “I like it a lot, though!”

“NHL Center Ice is the only cable package we pay for,” Kuroo says over his shoulder. “Well. Bokuto pays for it.”

“Huh,” Daichi said, ignoring Kuroo’s whines about wanting to sit in the middle. “You kinda look like you play hockey, you know, with your build.”

Bokuto shrugged. “I get that a lot,” he said. “I got into skating too early and too fast to ever give it up though, but I’m not a big, uh, violence guy.”

“And we’re lucky to have you,” Kuroo said, reaching around Daichi to pat Bokuto on the shoulder. 

Fifteen minutes later, Bokuto was staring open mouthed down at the rink. “Who is _that_ ,” he said as a player, a little slighter than the rest, managed to rip a slap shot so hard that the _goalie_ flinched.

“Number five?” Daichi said, leaning forward. “Akaashi Keiji. He’s new to the team this year and a rookie besides, but he’s got a hell of a slapshot.”

“He’s amazing,” Bokuto said fervently. 

Daichi grinned and nudged him in the ribs. “You should see him without the helmet.”

* * *

Later on, when Akaashi was thrown into the penalty box for hooking- the boys in the stands booing at the bad call- Bokuto did indeed get to see him without the helmet. 

Bokuto made a frankly embarrassing noise in the back of his throat, gaze flicking from the screen to the small, dark head sitting in the sin bin. 

“Oh no,” Kuroo said, aghast. “He’s hot.” Daichi started to laugh.

Akaashi dumped half his water bottle over his head and slicked back wet hair, glaring out at the rink with gunmetal eyes.

Bokuto moaned and put his face in his hands.

* * *

“Guess what, boys,” Atsumu called loudly as he entered the locker room. “One of our lovely contestants has, yes, won the incredible honor of being the subject of a figure skater’s admiration!”

“What the fuck are you _on_ ,” Tanaka said, sounding delighted. 

Akaashi sighed, lifted his head from the Gordian knot that his laces had worked themselves into. Atsumu’s skates clattered as he made his way to the benches and his gold hair was almost black with sweat. 

“Y’dunno?” He said. “A figure skater’s got the hots for one of the boys.”

“Stop being a fuckin’ tool,” Osamu called calmly.

“Don’tcha want to know, ‘Samu?” Atsumu retorted. “Or is it cuz you know they ain’t crushing on yer ugly ass?”

“Get fucked,” Osamu said, pulling his jersey over his head. 

“You’re a fucking gossip, ‘Sumu,” Aran said from the back. “Tell us who it is already.”

Atsumu grinned “None other than our brand new baby! Akaashi is in cupid’s sights.”

Akaashi jerked his head up, stared at Atsumu. “What?”

“It’s not surprising,” Tanaka said. “Akaashi’s a pretty boy.”

“And the flow is incredible,” Aran said, ruffling Akaashi’s hair as he passed. 

“How bout that?” Atsumu said, sounding much too pleased with himself. 

“How do you know any of this?” Nishinoya asked, impressed. 

“‘M friends with Suga,” Atsumu said, finally sitting down to unlace his skates. “And Suga knows everything.”

The stragglers left in the locker room nodded in agreement. Suga, the rink’s manager, was almost definitely omnipotent. 

“I can’t believe Suga is friends with you,” Aran said. “You’re so obnoxious.”

“Hey!” Atsumu said, hand pressed to heart in mock offense. “Suga and I have a special relationship.”

A chorus of jeers sounded in the locker room. “Y’know, if it’s Kiyoko who’s in love with you, I’ll have to kill you,” Tanaka said conversationally. 

“Seconded,” Nishinoya said, raising his hands. 

Akaashi bit back a sigh. “Thanks, boys,” he said drily.

Tanaka and Nishinoya’s laughter is only cut off by the banging of the door, and Akaashi lets out that sigh he’d been holding. 

“They’re on the ice right now, if y’wanna take a peek,” Atsumu said, slightly muffled as he struggled to pull his jersey over his pads. “I’ll even go with ya, so it’s not weird.”

“You’d make it weird, ya freak,” Osamu said, coming over and ripping the jersey over his brother’s head. 

Atsumu’s hair stuck up around his face like a crown, and he frowned up at Osamu. “Would not.”

Akaashi bent his head and finally managed to unpick the knot of his laces. “I don’t know,” he says to his socked feet. 

“C’mon,” Aran says. He’s already managed to take off the rest of his pads. “We’ll all go ogle the figure skater who’s in love with Akaashi after showers, it’ll be fun.”

“Yes!” Atsumu cheers, punching the air. “Knew you’d be on my side.”

Akaashi’s sigh this time is much deeper and more heartfelt. 

Fifteen minutes later, Akaashi has speed showered, trying to get out of the locker room before anyone else. He dresses with more haste than care and darts out of the locker room with his bag over his shoulder, closing it carefully so it doesn’t bang. 

He’s halfway out the complex when his steps slow, and then stop. It couldn’t actually hurt to go take a look, right? Just to soothe his curiosity. Get a good look at them so he could avoid them if need be. 

Akaashi’s feet turn, and he heads back into the rink. 

When he enters, the cold air feels like a slap upside his still wet head. There’s faint strains of some pop song Akaashi doesn’t recognize coming tinny over a portable speaker. What’s louder is the familiar scrape of skates on ice, set to different patterns than he’s used to. 

He walks forward enough that the whole rink is in view, and the pair skating on it is too. 

They’re a funny pair- the girl is blonde and _tiny_ , dwarfed by the silver-haired guy who is currently skating backward in an easy glide. He turns neatly, no unnecessary movement, and is at the girl’s side in an instant.

The guy who now skates at her side looks more like a hockey player than Akaashi does. He’s broad through the shoulders, obvious power in his arms, and his thighs are wrapped in black athletic leggings that Akaashi is suddenly very thankful for. 

He’s also very thankful for the short-sleeved compression shirt he’s wearing. 

Akaashi shakes his head. He can feel a slight flush coming to his face, and he feels guilty. He was supposed to be coming to take a look at this girl who’s apparently into him, and here he is, ogling her skating partner. 

The girl is very cute, delicate feathers and obviously athletic, but not Akaashi’s type. He takes careful stock of her features anyway, makes sure he’d recognize her in the future.

Their heads bend together, silver and gold, and seem to be conferring for a brief moment. Akaashi watches with interest as they circle the rink, hand in black gloved hand, picking up speed. In another moment, the girl has managed to get in _front_ of her partner, still picking up speed but backward, and then his hands are around her waist and he’s lifting her in the air like she weighs nothing at all. 

Akaashi’s mouth suddenly goes dry. 

Oh, god. He’s a horrible person. 

He still watches as the guy tilts his head to say something to the girl- while she’s still _held over his head_ \- and then gently places her down onto the ice without missing a beat. His footwork is insane. 

“Yo, Akaashi, you decided to go on without us?” A voice calls from behind Akaashi, and he whips his head around, staring wide-eyed as Atsumu, Osamu, and Aran all file through into the rink. 

The pair on the ice still hasn’t taken notice of them, but all the blood feels like it’s drained out of Akaashi’s face. This is a worst case scenario.

They’re headed around the rink again, skates flashing in unison as they pick up speak. 

Osamu whistles. “She’s cute.”

“Nice wheels,” Aran says. 

Atsumu leans on the glass, not even bothering to look at the ice. “What, yer not gonna say hi to your little fan, Akaashi?”

Akaashi holds himself stiffly. “I’m not a dick,” he says, and fights the urge to glare at Atsumu. He’s just trying to get a rise. “And you know I’m not into women.”

Atsumu just starts laughing, turns to look at the pair skating on the ice. “Hey, I never said _Yachi_ was the one who was into ya.”

Very slowly, Akaashi’s head turns back to the ice, just in time to see the guy pick his partner up again, and raise her above his head- this time, she’s held up by just one arm. 

Akaashi swallows, hard. 

Another moment and the girl- Yachi, apparently- is back on the ground, and she spins in a happy little circle. On her second rotation, her skates screech, and she stares at the group of hockey players hanging out rinkside. 

She tugs on her partner’s arm, and he spins to face them too, face open and curious, head tilted like a bird.

Akaashi’s eyes meet a pair of wide gold ones, and he watches, astonished, as the skater’s face goes a very cute shade of pink, flushing over his cheekbones and his ears. 

A small, shy smile comes over the guy’s face, and he raises one black-gloved hand in a little wave. 

As if in a trance, Akaashi raises one hand and waves back, a little awkwardly. Out of the corner of his mouth, he says, very calmly, “I’m gonna murder you, you fucking hoser,” to Atsumu. 

The boys at his side immediately collapse in laughter, howling and ribbing Atsumu mercilessly, while Atsumu cries out about how he doesn’t deserve this abuse. 

Akaashi doesn’t bother to pay any attention to them, as the silver-haired figure skater just grins a little wider and Akaashi’s heart beats a steady mantra of _Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can't tell, i like, really love hockey. and hockey slang. you guys should go watch letterkenny. i also love the idea of bokuto and yachi being pairs partners. sweet babes!!
> 
> set to be about three chapters right now, but i don't have an update schedule!
> 
> [you can find me on twitter (often nsfw) ](https://twitter.com/ohwickedsoul)
> 
> [and also on tumblr? if that's your jam?](https://ohwickedsoul.tumblr.com/)
> 
> stay safe, stay healthy, be good!


	2. Chapter 2

Akaashi leaves shortly after, gritting his teeth through a few more laps and lifts of the pair carving smooth spirals into the ice. 

Atsumu trails him out like a evil puppy, tongue metaphorically lolling out of his mouth. His grin is wide and white. “So, what’d ya think, ‘Kaashi?” He says, jogs the few feet in between them and slings his arm over his shoulder. “Is that more up yer alley?” His mocking tone is undercut and more palatable by how damn pleased he sounds with himself, and the note of worry that whines through the lilted turn of his question.

Akaashi sighs. “He’s…a good skater,” and then winces. If Atsumu doesn’t call him on that cop out, then certainly-

“Boo,” calls a voice from behind them, and Atsumu’s iron grip around his shoulders tightens and pulls them both to a stop as Aran and Osamu follow them. “Tell us what you really thought, Akaashi,” Osamu says, leering in a way that’s much too similar to Atsumu to be comfortable. “Are you still _dreamin’_ about his shoulders?”

Akaashi wonders why he ever thought Osamu was the nice twin. 

“The man’s built like a fucking pylon but he’s light on his feet,” Aran says. “Beauty of a skater like that, I get it.”

“You never say _I’m_ a beaut,” Atsumu whines, attention flickering away from Akaashi like a moth. 

“That’s because yer fuckin’ ugly,” Osamu butts in, scrubbing his hands through Atsumu’s bleach blonde hair and then taking off at a full sprint.

“You stupid fuck, get back here!” Atsumu squawks and darts off after him.

Akaashi sighs and Aran elbows him in the shoulder. “Well?” he asks neutrally.

Akaashi stares straight ahead. “I’m having a little bit of a meltdown,” he says, and Aran burst into laughter. They exit the rink, heading out into the cold, clear air of the parking lot.

Atsumu is back with them a moment later, his precious hair a wreck but looking victorious. “What’s going on?”

“Akaashi’s having a meltdown,” Aran says, patting Akaashi on the shoulder. “Where’s Osamu?”

“Somewhere,” Atsumu says vaguely. Akaashi does not trust the grin on his face. “Why’re you so worried, ‘Kaashi? Yer hot, and ya already knows he likes you. I say you go for it.”

Akaashi blinks in surprise at at that easy admission. “I- thank you, Atsumu. But I don’t really know anything about him…” he trails off. His traitorous brain says, _Other than that he can lift a fully grown adult above his head with one arm._

“Why not go to the skating exhibition?” Aran suggests. “You could always go watch him skate.”

“Is…is that not creepy?” Akaashi says hesitatingly.

“Nah, he comes to our games, doesn’t he?” Atsumu says absently, fishing in his bag for his keys. 

Akaashi pauses. “…he comes to our games?”

There’s the sound of footsteps behind them, and then Osamu roars, “He pushed me into a _fucking_ bush!”

Atsumu cackles and throws himself into the driver’s seat of the car. Osamu has leaves in his hair and is cursing even as he yanks the passenger door open.

Aran and Akaashi look at each other and give twin sighs.

* * *

Back in the rink, Bokuto is having somewhat larger of a meltdown. 

“Oh my god,” he moans into his hands. “Yachi, do you think he saw me?” He’s crouched on the ice like some sort of winter themed gargoyle. Yachi stands above him, shifting on her skates like a bird who also likes ice. And skates? This simile is rapidly running away from him. Skating away from him?

“Kou,” Yachi says, shaking his shoulder a little. “What-“

“Did we look okay?” Bokuto says, finally lifting his face from his hands. “Oh my god Yachi, why was he here? Why was he _watching us_?” His voice is rapidly rising in pitch and volume and Yachi is starting to look as freaked out as he feels. 

“Oh my god, why are we yelling?” She squeaks. “Why were they here? Why _were_ they watching us?” 

“Exactly!” Bokuto says, waving his hands and wobbling so hard he almost falls flat on his ass. He stands up, instead, puts his hands over his mouth. “Oh my god, Yachi, why were they here?!”

“Are you guys…okay?” a voice calls from the edge of the rink. Sakusa is looking at the both of them askance, best as Bokuto can tell from the partial slice of face he can see between the curls in his face and black face mask. 

“No!” Bokuto calls back, as Yachi has worked herself into a terrified, vibrating silence by both the question of the voyeuristic hockey players and the appearance of Sakusa.

It’s not so much Sakusa that’s the problem as it is his partner-

“Yacchan, are you okay?” Kiyoko calls, concern painted all over her pretty face. 

“Fine!” Yachi says in a high pitched squeak. “Totally fine! Nothing’s wrong!”

“Bokuto just said that you guys weren’t okay,” Sakusa points out, one eyebrow raising. 

“What happened?” Kiyoko says, and she comes to stand by her pairs partner. Bokuto is like, eighty percent sure they’re related- they’re a tall, well matched pair, with shiny dark hair and moles on their face. 

They’re also both stunningly, shockingly good looking. 

“My life is over,” Bokuto says, skating over to the duo and sort of dragging Yachi behind him. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t count because they’re on skates and they do this sort of thing in their routines sometimes. He’s also sure that she might be paralyzed. 

“Why?” Kiyoko says. 

“Because the hockey player Bokuto’s in love with saw him practicing his lifts with Yachi,” a new voice calls. 

The four figure skaters turn to look, and Suga waves from the second or third row of seats. 

There’s another person that Bokuto has secretly pegged as being part of the pretty mole people. Kuroo _swears_ that it’s the best name ever, while Yaku has made him promise to never say it again, but that’s besides the point. 

Either way, even though Suga has silvery hair, like the blade of a skate, not black, he’s also very very pretty and has a dark mole under his eye. So he could be related to Sakusa and Kiyoko too. 

“You’re in love with a hockey player?” Sakusa asks, and that’s definitely an expression of disgust under his black mask. 

“How long have you been up there?” Kiyoko says, turning her attention away from Yachi and Bokuto. Yachi breathes a little sigh of relief.

“Half an hour or so,” Suga shrugs, levering himself out of his seat and trotting down the stairs. “Just long enough to watch Akaashi come out and ogle Bokuto’s single arm lifts.”

“Noooo,” Bokuto wails, throwing himself half over the wall. Sakusa takes a step back. “Suga, why?”

“There is no god, only chaos,” Suga says seriously, and both Sakusa and Kiyoko turn to look at him at that. He breaks into a sunny smile a moment later, however, and says, “Aren’t you happy, Bokuto? Now your crush knows who you are, and that you can perform insane feats of acrobatics while wearing knives on your feet.”

“An important thing to look for in any partner,” Sakusa says dryly.

Bokuto makes another inarticulate noise and droops back over the wall. “I don’t even know if he’s gay,” he says miserably to the wet ground.

“He is,” Suga says cheerfully, and Bokuto’s head pops up so fast he almost breaks Yachi’s nose from where she had bent over to check on him.

“What?”

“I’m friends with Atsumu, on the hockey team?” Suga explains cheerfully. 

“… _Why?_ ” Sakusa asks, in tones of deepest disgust.

Suga ignores him, says, “There you have it. Any gay man has to be at least a little attracted to Bokuto, it’s a fact of life.”

“..what?” Bokuto says again.

“That’s fair,” Kiyoko says thoughtfully. “Have they ever spoken, however?”

“I don’t understand why you’d _want_ to talk to a hockey player,” Sakusa grouses.

“Wait, back up,” Bokuto says, still staring up at them. The trio off the ice ignores him, and Yachi pats his back in solidarity. 

“We could do something about that,” Suga says, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we just….overlap the practice times. A tiny bit.”

“Are we scheming?” A new voice calls, and now Kuroo and Yaku are clattering their way down to the rink. “What am I saying,” Kuroo continues. “Suga’s here. Of course we’re scheming.”

“Get fucked,” Suga says absently. “It’s for love.”

“Akaashi watched me and Bokuto skate!” Yachi pipes up, bouncing up on her toe picks.

“No fucking way Yacchan,” Kuroo says flatly. 

“Yes!” She says excitedly, focusing on Kuroo and briefly forgetting to be paralyzed and silent in Kiyoko’s presence. “And now Bokuto is having a meltdown.”

“Aw,” Kuroo coos, elbows his way in between Sakusa, who hisses like a cat, and Suga to crouch down and pat Bokuto’s head. “Are we freaking out because Mr. Slapshot saw you do some fancy spins?”

“Well, we were walking on our one armed lifts,” Yachi says sheepishly.

Kuroo looks up at that. “Oh, shit. Well, if he wasn’t gay before he’s got to be at least a little now,” he says reasonably.

“He is gay,” Suga says, still staring off into space.

“There you go, Bo,” Kuroo says, giving him one last pat on the head and then standing up from his crouch. “You’re good to go.”

“What does that _mean_ ,” Bokuto says into the ether, finally unhinging his waist and pushing off from the rink wall. 

“Okay,” Suga says, “I got it. We’ll just do a teeny tiny overlap of the practices, I’ll schedule some baby skater classes and push everyone up by half an hour.”

“What?” Sakusa says, sounding annoyed. “Are you giving us less ice time so Bokuto can drool after some lug?”

“He’s not a lug,” Bokuto frowns.

Suga shoots him an annoyed look. “Of course not,” he says. “I’m just gonna not give you guys your regular hour of lead time, you’ll be doing cool downs and stretching still when they take the ice.”

“Fine,” Sakusa says, and takes the ice, ignoring the rest of the skaters gathered around the entrance to the rink. 

“He’s sure got a stick up his ass,” Kuroo says, half admiring. 

“See you later, Bokuto. Yachi,” Kiyoko says, giving the blonde a smile. Yachi lifts up a shaky hand and waves. 

Kiyoko takes the ice and the boys- and Yachi- admire her perfect form for a moment. 

Suga sighs after a second and shakes his head. “I’ll deal with you next, Yachi,” and it sounds like a very nice threat. “I can only deal with one gay crisis at a time.”

Yachi moans, sounding eerily like Bokuto, and puts her head in her hands.

* * *

When the team takes the ice in a clatter of skates and heartfelt cursing, as usual, there is a new element. 

Said new element is the gaggle of figure skaters finishing up off-ice cool downs and stretches in the padded area to the left of the rink entrance. 

“Suga is a menace,” Atsumu says in tones of deepest appreciation. 

Akaashi’s gloved hands twitch around his helmet, and he can feel his ears growing red. He’s about to shove it on his head early when Osamu whacks him with a glove upside the head. 

“No buckets during warmies ya fuckin’ idiot,” he says cheerfully. “Gotta show off yer pretty face.”

Akaashi glares at him, and determinedly does not look for a head of silver hair amongst the group still stretching by the ice.

* * *

“Good god,” Kuroo says from the boards. “Why are they all so big?”

“How are you, of all people, talking right now?” Yaku says, amazed. “You and Bokuto both look like you could be on that team.”

“Is this your way of telling me I look big and strong, Yakkun?” Kuroo says, batting his eyelashes at Yaku. He’s laying flat on his back while Yaku pushes on his upright left leg, stretching out his hamstring.

Yaku glares down at him and leans a little bit farther forward, and Kuroo sucks in a breath. “Okay, sorry, sorry, very tight there, sorry,” and Yaku leans back.

Bokuto is thinking about crawling under the stands. “A little further, Kou, please,” Yachi says, and Bokuto pushes a little bit farther on Yachi’s back, who lets a slow exhale out. 

She’s in a middle straddle, her back almost parallel to the floor. “Bokuto, switch with me,” Kiyoko calls over. “You and Sakusa are better suited to help each other stretch out size wise.”

“You just don’t want me to accidentally break Yachi,” Bokuto faux pouts, but he manages to wink at Yachi when she sits up in near terror. 

“Ah, I mean-“ Yachi stutters, but Kiyoko is already settling into her middle straddle and holding out her hands to link with Yachi. 

Kuroo purses his lips like he’s going to wolf whistle, and Bokuto not so subtly kicks him in the side, and all that leaves his lips is puff of air. “Fuck you,” he wheezes up at him, and Bokuto gives him a cheerful thumbs up.

* * *

“Good lord, they are all so stretchy,” Atsumu says, sounding impressed, and Akaashi fights not to just- whip his head around. He can be strong. He can do this. 

They’re in the middle of a round of three on twos, and Akaashi _knows_ that Atsumu is just chirping at him to distract him, knows that as soon as he takes his attention off the puck he’s gone for. 

He dangles the puck out in front of him, trying to get Atsumu to make a move, get in close. 

“Is your boy doing the splits?” Aran says, and his head is turned fully, and Akaashi is a weak man.

He turns. 

The silver haired skater indeed does have one leg pulled up- far up, and it’s being held in place by a curly haired skater a little taller than he is. Jesus, he is flexible.

That’s when he gets absolutely kronwalled by Atsumu, a heavy check into the boards that rattles Atsumu good, and the puck is off his stick and Aran is heading towards his other two defenders.

Akaashi spits a curse and dashes off after him. He’s gonna have some fun bruises underneath his pads, that’s for damn sure.

* * *

“That was a hell of a hit,” Sakusa says conversationally. He’s holding Bokuto’s leg in place while Bokuto leans into the stretch, holding onto the side of the rink for balance. Bokuto looks up just in time to see Akaashi bounce off the boards, shake his head once, and then take off like lightning toward the team in black pinnies. 

“Hope he’s alright,” Bokuto says, and his balance wavers. Sakusa sighs and starts to lower his leg down. 

The muscles in his legs feel warm and loose, and Bokuto thinks guiltily that it may be because he’s doing a much more thorough cool down than usual. Everyone else is too, though, so he doesn’t feel _that_ bad about it. 

There’s a sharp whistle on the ice, and most of the skaters look up to see the hockey players head towards the bench for water and a break. 

The bench, where most of the figure skaters are gathered by. 

“I did not think this through,” Bokuto says out loud from where he’s holding Sakusa’s weirdly flexible wrists. 

“Can you concentrate,” Sakusa says, annoyed, and Bokuto braces his feet and continues helping Sakusa stretch out his back.

* * *

“Akaashi, if you don’t go say hi to him, I swear to god I will call nothing but hits on you the entire rest of practice,” Atsumu says with narrowed eyes. 

“Because the one you got on me earlier wasn’t enough?” Akaashi gripes, rotating his shoulder. He pushes sweat soaked hair off his forehead. 

“That was a warning,” Atsumu says. “We have five minutes. Go.”

“Who died and made yer ass captain?” Osamu jeered. “You should do it, though.”

“I’m going to start throwing gloves at you, and Nishinoya and Tanaka will help me,” Atsumu threatens. 

“Why’re we throwing things at Akaashi?” Nishinoya asks.

“Cuz he’s a coward,” Osamu says. 

“Alright,” Tanaka shrugs, and pegs Akaashi in the shoulder with an empty water bottle. 

Akaashi sighs, runs his hand through his hair once more. “Fine.” He snaps. “Fine.”

A cheer rises from the bench, and Akaashi tosses the empty water bottle back. With some satisfaction, he watches it bounce off Atsumu’s forehead. 

He skates away, toward the coalition of skaters, with his heart in his throat and the rising rabble of hockey players on break behind him.

* * *

“He’s coming over here,” Sakusa says, rotating his shoulders. 

Bokuto looks up from his final few stretches, touching his toes. “What?”

“The hockey player. He’s at the boards.” Sakusa sounds vaguely bored, but there’s something about the crinkled corners of his eyes that suggests he might be smirking behind his black face mask. 

He walks away just as Bokuto bounces up on his toes and comes face to face with Akaashi Keiji for the first time. 

The hockey player is a little bit shorter than him, he thinks, because they’re eye to eye when Akaashi has the advantage of skates. The other part of his brain is too busy shrieking and falling into flames because Akaashi is _right in front of him_ and his eyes are _so beautiful_ up close, and his hair is pushed off his forehead and a disaster from the helmet and he is _right in front of him_ and _why_.

“I- I saw you skate, earlier,” Akaashi says abruptly, and his ears color red. 

“Oh!” Bokuto says. “Yeah! I saw!” _And now you seem like a creep,_ he bemoans inwardly.

“Ah- sorry about that.” Akaashi says, and now his cheeks are a little red too. “If it was weird to- watch, or whatever.”

“No, not at all!” Bokuto says, taking a step closer to the boards. The portion of the wall they’re at, where people can enter and exit, doesn’t have the thick plastic wall that protects the stands from stray pucks. 

“You’re a very talented skater,” Akaashi says. “The lifts are interesting to watch.”

* * *

Akaashi wants to die a little inside. What is he saying? He sounds like a robot. The silver haired skater is grinning, however, and bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, so he can’t be doing all bad. 

“That’s Yachi,” he says proudly. “My partner. She’s brilliant, and makes my job a lot easier, there’s an exhibition coming up that we’re practicing for, but we’ve been skating together since we were pretty little, and then I got big and she stayed little, pretty much, which honestly just makes my job even easier, but I’ve always loved the ice.” 

Akaashi’s mouth quirks up in half a smile. He’s…really cute. “Oh!” The skater says. “I’m Bokuto, Bokuto Koutarou.”

He holds out his hand. 

Akaashi stares at it for a brief moment, and then pulls his glove off. Shakes it, tries not to hyper focus on the fact that Bokuto’s hands are bigger than his, warmer, calloused on the outside of his fingers. 

Akaashi had the same callouses, from lacing up his skates. 

“Akaashi Keiji,” Akaashi says, and the half smile blooms into a real one almost against his will, small but genuine. 

That’s when Atsumu slams into his back.

“How’s it going, boys?” He says, grinning, throwing an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. More quietly, he says, “Break’s up in two minutes, and I figured you’d rather have me crash than do suicides for an hour.”

Akaashi sighs. He’s right. “Hi there, I’m Atsumu,” he says, stretches out a hand to Bokuto.

Bokuto grins, wide and brilliant, and shakes Atsumu’s hand. “Bokuto.”

“Is it a party now?” A new voice calls, and now a tall dark haired skater is draping himself over Bokuto’s broad shoulders. “I’m Kuroo.”

“It absolutely is.” And now Osamu is on Akaashi’s other side. 

“Good lord, there’s two of you,” the curly haired skater with the moles says. He looks like he’s on his way out, his coat on and bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Who’re you?” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t sound nearly as bitchy as Akaashi expected.

Akaashi turns to look at him, and Atsumu’s eyebrows are high on his forehead, and he’s giving curly hair the most blatant once over Akaashi’s ever seen. 

“One minute thirty boys!” Aran calls. God bless him. 

“About that exhibition,” Akaashi says, a little desperately. “Would it be okay if I came and saw you skate?”

Bokuto blushes but his smile has a god damn dimple, and Akaashi’s suddenly glad that he’s got a twin on either side keeping him upright as his knees go weak. “Yeah! Yeah. I’d like that a lot, actually.” He pauses a second, and then blurts out, “I’ve seen you play. You’re really good.”

“Have you now,” Atsumu drawls, not sounding surprised in the slightest. 

The skater draped over Bokuto’s shoulder raises an eyebrow. “Problem?”

Curly hair sniffs, best as Akaashi can tell behind the face mask. “We’re all friends here, yeah?” Atsumu says. “We should all go to the exhibition, support everyone on the ice, maybe have a little mixer after? House party? Gongshow?”

Curly hair says, unimpressed, “Why?”

Atsumu shrugs. “We’re all athletes here.”

Curly hair stares at Atsumu. Aran calls, “Thirty seconds!”

“Sounds like fun!” Bokuto says. “Um. You should take my number! So we can plan! Kuroo,” he says, dislodging the skater on him. “Give me a pen.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo says, and starts digging through a bright red duffle bag. 

The twins leave, unwilling to risk the threat of sprints, but Atsumu blows a kiss toward the curly haired skater. Curly hair spins on his heel and leaves, but Atsumu just skates lazily backward and watches him go. 

Kuroo finally fishes a sharpie out of his bag and presses it into Bokuto’s hand. 

Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s still bare hand and scribbles his number in big, untidy numbers going halfway up his arm. “There you go,” Bokuto says, one big hand still wrapped around Akaashi’s wrist. 

Akaashi swallows. They’re much closer than before, Bokuto leaning out half over the ice, and his eyes are bright gold and warm. 

The whistle blows and Akaashi winces. 

Bokuto drops his wrist and waves. “Text me!” He calls, and Akaashi raises a hand and skates over to where the rest of the team is gathering. 

He does end up having to do sprints after practice, but the numbers on his hand, dark and inky and a little smeared with sweat, are worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of these are REAL STRETCHES though they are shockingly hard to write descriptions for
> 
> this chapter is almost double the expected word count bc these bitches won't shut the hell up, god love em. 
> 
> [be friends w me on twitter (often nsfw) ](https://twitter.com/ohwickedsoul)
> 
> stay healthy, stay safe, be good!


	3. Chapter 3

For the next few days, Bokuto exists as a bright presence in his phone, a string of numbers that quickly turn into a last name, and then the first is added, and then emojis, and then-

And it’s Akaashi coming to practice with slightly darker circles under his eyes than normal but a tight mouth from trying to control the smile that seems to want to make its home there, and it’s too many exclamation points and Bokuto’s frankly tragic grasp on the word immediately, which Akaashi has never seen him spell correctly-

And then it’s the first time Bokuto FaceTimes him, eyes bright and talking almost as soon as Akaashi picks up, and then it becomes a regular thing, late at night when they’re both done with practice and exhausted but they still. You know. Wanna talk. 

Because Bokuto’s prepping for the exhibition, and Akaashi’s in the middle of the season and there’s no time, really, for them to _hang out_. Their schedules are a Gordian knot neither of them can seem to untangle enough to find out where the other would fit. So they see in each other in brief bursts around the rink as Bokuto’s eyes take on a sort of laser like focus and Akaashi’s shoulders blossom with old bruises that fade slow as his skin toughens. 

It does not stop any of their friends from heckling them. 

“Yer phone is buzzing, _again_ ,” Atsumu says, waving the offending object above his head. “Doesn’t yer boy know you’re at practice?” 

Akaashi’s not totally certain they know Bokuto’s name, considering that no one on the team has ever called him anything other than ‘your boy.’

Akaashi doesn’t snatch the phone out of his hands, though it is an exercise in self-discipline not to. If he goes for it, it’ll only inspire further lawlessness in the form of jeering from the rest of the team. “He’s not my boy,” he says instead. 

“Not _yet_ ,” Aran says, wiggling his eyebrows at Akaashi. “You being a coward, ‘Kaashi?”

Akaashi scowls. 

Aran has, per usual, hit upon the heart of the matter. It doesn’t mean Akaashi has to _like_ it. 

For all their FaceTimes and texting and the way that Akaashi’s heart, even now, is doing some strange squeeze at the sight of his phone- still in Atsumu’s hands- lit up with Bokuto’s name-

For all that, they really, _really_ haven’t hung out in person. And Akaashi’s overly analytical, overthinking brain has been running in circles, dragging its hands down its face, screaming, 

_What if he doesn’t like you in person? What if it’s weird when you try to hang out without the buffer of miles between you? What if he decides that he just wants to be friends because you’re not that cute without the mask of a hockey uniform? What if- what if- what if-_

“Akaashi,” Atsumu says, his arm coming down slowly. “You good?” 

Akaashi blinks once, twice. “Yes,” he says, belatedly. 

“You should text yer boy back,” Atsumu says. “When’s his exhibition again?”

“Two days from now,” Akaashi answers automatically, and then processes the question. “Atsumu. You’re not-“

“Of course we’re goin’,” Osamu enters the chat. He sounds offended. “Gotta go support you in yer romantic endeavors.” 

Akaashi closes his eyes briefly. “Please no.”

“Please yes,” Aran says, and he sounds very pleased. “Don’t worry, I’m coming too, keep these hooligans in line.”

“Who else is gonna bully the rest of the skaters into coming to our party after?” Atsumu demands. “ _Some_ of them gotta come, or your boy’s gonna feel weird.”

Akaashi’s brows draw together. Atsumu is very often the most thoughtful person he knows, in the worst of ways. “That’s…okay. Thank you?” 

He still says it as a question.

* * *

Things are not any easier for Bokuto. 

“No,” Sakusa says flatly. 

“It’ll be fun!” Bokuto wheedles. “Let off some steam after the exhibition! Make new friends!”

“I don’t want any new friends,” Sakusa says, yanking at his laces with more force than is probably necessary. 

“I’ll come,” Yaku says decisively. “I like house parties better than bars, anyway. Free drinks. Gotta check out this lunkhead you’ve decided to fall in love with, anyway.”

“Well, if Yaku’s going to keep everyone in line…” Kuroo says, grinning. “I’ll come check out this hockey house.”

Sugawara looks up from his clipboard. “Oh, I’m going,” he says. “Atsumu texted me an invite last week.”

“That idiot?” Sakusa says, in tones of deep disgust.

“Jealous?” Sugawara asks sweetly, and Bokuto watches, flabbergasted, as Sakusa’s pale face goes pink. 

“You’re kidding me,” Kuroo sounds _delighted_. “Sakusa, _no. _Not you too.”__

__Sakusa looks like he might spit on Kuroo, but Bokuto ignores him to show Yachi big, puppy-dog eyes. “You’ll come too, Yacchan?” Bokuto says, turning to his partner._ _

__Yachi scrunches up her little nose. “I don’t know, Kou,” she says, hesitant. “It’s not really my scene…”_ _

__“You have to come,” Kiyoko says from behind her, sitting on the floor and lacing up her skates. “Who else will keep me company?”_ _

__Yachi freezes, goes red to her ears, and then turns slowly. Kiyoko smiles at her, almost shy, and Bokuto has to clench his fists in order not to punch the air._ _

__“So we’ll all go,” he says, pleased._ _

__“ _No_.” Sakusa grinds out._ _

* * *

__Sakusa goes._ _

* * *

__Before that, however- before the nerve-wracking uber, feeling like there’s ice in his veins in the best way, before Akaashi’s wide-eyed expression of pride and astonishment in the stands, before the full-body hug Bokuto sweeps him into without thinking-_ _

__Before that, there is the exhibition itself._ _

__The day of the exhibition dawns and Bokuto wakes up with with something roiling in his gut, something not easily identifiable as excitement or anxiety._ _

__When he gets to the rink, Yachi is white faced and silent in fear, and he’s able to get over most of his nerves helping Yachi through hers._ _

__Sakusa and Kiyoko appear like wraiths in their black costumes, crystals gleaming._ _

__Kuroo’s eyes are hard in a way that Bokuto doesn’t see often, and Yaku’s teeth are grinding in a way that makes Bokuto scared for his enamel._ _

__Suga is the only one who seems to have any sort of balance, but then again, he’s not performing._ _

__“Are we ready?” He asks, moments before the first of them are about to take the ice. The rink is lit, and there’s a loud susurration that’s the noise of many people talking blending together to form a roar in Bokuto’s ears._ _

__Suga gives them all a smile, bright and easy and completely sure of himself, of them. “You’re going to do great.” He says, confident._ _

__The first skater takes the ice, the lights go black, and it begins._ _

* * *

__Akaashi sits back in his seat._ _

__“Holy shit,” Atsumu breaks the silence._ _

__“They can fuckin’ skate, I’ll give ‘em that,” Osamu says, sounding more impressed than anything._ _

__Aran turns to Akaashi. “What’re you still doing here?” He asks._ _

__Akaashi blinks. “What?”_ _

__“Go find your boy,” he says. “Congratulate him, or whatever.”_ _

__“Oh,” Akaashi’s already getting to his feet. “Yes. Of course.” He’s making his way down the stairs, quick and easy, ignoring the catcalls of his teammates behind him, before most of the other spectators have even begun to get out of their seats._ _

__He knows this rink like the back of his hand at this point, and he weaves his way into the hidden hallways. He passes Sugawara on the way, who gives him a wave and a wink. “See you tonight!” Suga calls after him, and Akaashi raises a hand in acknowledgment._ _

__In another moment, Akaashi’s coming out into the windowless, carpeted spot skaters use as a sort of green room._ _

__He sees Bokuto first. Bokuto’s waving his hands by his face, million watt smile stretched across his face. Akaashi’s breath catches. It feels like the first time he’s seen him in real life since Bokuto had scrawled inky numbers across his arm. As he watches, suddenly frozen still and silent, Kuroo slaps him on the shoulder._ _

__Akaashi jolts. “Hey Bokuto!” Kuroo calls. “Look who came to see you!”_ _

__To Akaashi, more quietly, he says, “Be good to him, yeah?” Then he swans off, to go ruffle the sweat soaked hair of the little blonde skater who is not Yachi- but Akaashi’s not really paying attention to him._ _

__Bokuto turns at Kuroo’s call, and his eyes just- glow. They’re bright and gold and so much fucking better in real life than they are over the pixelated screen of Akaashi’s phone, and Akaashi can feel his face sort of- go soft. Open up._ _

__He can’t help the smile that crawls across his features._ _

__“Akaashi!” Bokuto yells, almost garbling his name, and he crosses the room in two long strides. In another moment, Akaashi’s swept up into a bear hug, and it’s almost dizzying- Akaashi is not small, he’s a hockey player, tall and dense, but Bokuto’s presence is so large it makes Akaashi feel dwarfed._ _

__“Were you watching?” Bokuto says, and he’s still too loud, almost yelling, but he says it right next to Akaashi’s ear, and it feels almost intimate._ _

__Akaashi’s hands come up, hesitant, around Bokuto’s back. “I saw you on the ice,” he says. “I was watching. You were brilliant,” he says into the space between Bokuto’s neck and shoulder._ _

__When Bokuto pulls back, his hands still on Akaashi’s biceps like he’s afraid to let go, his face is pink and his eyes are nervous and warm._ _

* * *

__The über over to the hockey house is _excruciating_. Most of the hockey team has gone ahead to get the night started, promising to make the requisite runs for beer and ice, but Bokuto asked Akaashi to wait for him, and helpless to do anything else, he did. _ _

__“Hmm,” Kuroo says. “We’ll have to take two Ubers.”_ _

__They’re all in a little huddle outside the rink, all the skaters plus Akaashi and Sugawara._ _

__“I’ll call an XL, and then we can just throw the extras in a regular,” Kuroo says, tapping on his phone._ _

__“Alright-” Akaashi starts, but Suga interrupts him._ _

__“Already called one!” He says cheerfully._ _

__“I’m not sitting in the backseat,” Sakusa warns._ _

__“No worries,” Kuroo says blithely. “Me’n Yaku can cuddle up back there so the girls don’t have to climb back. Or we can put him in the trunk.”_ _

__“You’re a bitch,” Yaku says, unfazed._ _

__“You’ll ride with me, right?” Bokuto asks Akaashi, almost shy._ _

__“You’re both riding with me,” Suga says. “So I don’t have to fight Sakusa for the passenger seat.”_ _

__“Fine by me,” Sakusa says. He almost snaps it. He’s in a black turtleneck, his curls still wet. Suga keeps _looking_ at him, with narrowed eyes and a little smirk, and Akaashi wonders what that’s about. Sakusa doesn’t seem exactly excited to go. _ _

__Their rides pull up shortly after, and they crowd into the cars, and Akaashi is left with his nervous, sweating hands and a quiet car with Bokuto a single seat away._ _

__It at once seems much too close and much too far._ _

__Bokuto’s hair has been released from its usual gel prison, and it hangs in his eyes, black streaked white. “Gotta wait for it to dry fully,” he had said almost sheepishly when Akaashi had watched him come out of the locker room with raised eyebrows. Akaashi watches him look out the window and absently tuck a damp strand behind his ear, and his heart clenches._ _

__Luckily, Suga can talk enough for both of them. “I’m excited!” He says cheerfully from the front seat. “I haven’t ever been to the hockey house. Really neat that you guys all live together.”_ _

__“It’s not everyone,” Akaashi says. “Some of the boys board with host families, you know, or have their own places. It’s really just me, the twins, and Aran.”_ _

__The home rink for the season is in a college town, a major stroke of luck, so there’s plenty of cheap, transient housing. The house in question is a little ramshackle, on the outskirts of town, but it’s private and cheap and Akaashi doesn’t have to deal with the inevitable awkwardness of a host family, something he swore he’d never do again._ _

__They pull up to the house, and spill out of the cars, the windows already glowing yellow and warm and music coming faintly as they walk up the drive._ _

__Akaashi is pushed to the front, and he sighs, fishes out his keys. Braces himself._ _

__He inserts the key in the lock, pauses a moment, turns to the assembled skaters behind him. “They can be… a lot,” he warns. “Just-“_ _

__The door flies open, music spilling out, and Tanaka and Nishinoya are grabbing an arm each and pulling him bodily inside. “Welcome to the party, ya fucking hosers,” one of them yells- Akaashi honestly has no idea who. “Get a drink!”_ _

__Kuroo and Yaku start cackling and push into the house. Suga is grinning ear to ear. Kiyoko and Yachi enter a little more cautiously, and craning his neck, Akaashi watches Kiyoko take the younger girl’s hand. In comfort or something else, he’s not sure, but he does see Yachi’s face go red to her hairline. Good for her._ _

__Sakusa slinks in like a thundercloud, brows drawn together, but Bokuto-_ _

__Bokuto’s grinning ear to ear watching Akaashi, long suffering but complacent, get pulled in and his long hair scrubbed through and a beer put in his hands by his teammates._ _

* * *

__Akaashi shakes off his two teammates- one with a shaved head, one with a blond streak in his hair- and blows his long bangs out of his face. His hair is loose, which Bokuto hasn’t seen often. Half the time they FaceTime, it’s pulled out of his face with a headband, or damp from a shower. Now, however, it’s barely brushing his shoulders, wavy and rumpled from the vigorous ruffling his teammates had given him._ _

__It looks like sex hair, and Bokuto swallows against the idea._ _

__Suga’s voice breaks that chain of thought, thankfully. “Daichi!” he yells, delighted, and in a moment a blur of silvery hair is throwing themself into Daichi’s arms. Daichi’s solid enough to accommodate that, and barely moves as Suga barrels into him._ _

__He presses a kiss to Suga’s head. “I missed you too,” he says warmly._ _

__“Wait,” Bokuto hears, and turns to see Sakusa staring at the couple, brows furrowed. “Who’s that?”_ _

__Suga has a shit-eating grin on his face when he says, “What? This is Daichi, my fiancé.”_ _

__Daichi waves._ _

__Sakusa blinks._ _

__“Well, look who it fuckin’ is,” a voice drawls from further on inside the house, and Bokuto looks towards it. He feels like he’s watching a ping pong match. Atsumu leans against the doorframe to the kitchen, where Kuroo and Yaku have already disappeared._ _

__“Why don’t y’all shut the door and stop letting the cold in, huh?” Osamu says, taking up mirror position to his twin._ _

__“Hi Atsumu,” Suga waves from the circle of Daichi’s arms._ _

__“Suga!” Atsumu says, brightening. “Daichi! I didn’t think you were gettin’ back this early!”_ _

__“Ah, well, last day of the conference was mostly chiropractors talking, and I’ll be honest, I don’t care much about them,” Daichi shrugs. “And I heard there was a party, so I caught the last few talks this morning and then took a train back.”_ _

__“I’m very pleased you’re back early,” Suga says, tipping his face up and grinning at him._ _

__“And you!” Atsumu says, focusing in on Sakusa, who’s finally all the way in and shutting the door. “Yer Sakusa, yeah?”_ _

__Sakusa’s glare is half-hearted at best._ _

__Bokuto startles when there’s a warm touch to his arm, right below where his sleeves are shoved up, and he looks to see Akaashi’s moved to his side. “C’mon,” Akaashi says, quiet and a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get you a drink.”_ _

* * *

__When Akaashi steps outside, the night is black. The trees are barely visible, just deeper shadows in the night, the house’s warm light only reaching so far._ _

__It’s cold, but a clean, bright cold like the ice rink. Not burrowing into his bones but waking him up, making his breath steam in the air._ _

__When Akaashi lifts his head, his breath catches, disrupts the white trail._ _

__Above his head, there’s a break in the heavy clouds, just above them, and the stars shine a bright silver._ _

__It’s going…well. Better than Akaashi had hoped. Certainly better than he had feared._ _

__Bokuto would probably make a better hockey player than he would, he admits to himself, something wry and amused floating in his heart. He’s loud and extroverted and took everything Akaashi’s teammates threw at him well in stride, and slung it back good as player Akaashi’s ever seen. Aran had bumped his shoulder, said, “A good one, huh?” And then scrubbed through Akaashi’s hair again._ _

__At Akaashi’s affronted expression, Aran had just laughed, said, “The flow is too good, ‘Kaashi, I’m doing it for luck,” and then disappeared somewhere into the house to find his girlfriend._ _

__Akaashi had stepped out for some air, leaving Bokuto in the living room, waving his hands- one clutching a dangerously full cup- and telling a story to Kiyoko and Yachi. Yachi leaned into the taller girl’s side, and Tanaka and Nishinoya were listening too, occasionally offering colorful commentary that Bokuto was taking well in stride._ _

__Aran and Osamu had also been in the living room, playing a heated game of beer pong against Aran’s girlfriend and another girl Akaashi didn’t know._ _

__He had passed through the kitchen on his way out to the back porch. The little blonde skater who wasn’t Yachi was up on one of the counters, Kuroo between his legs. They were still just talking when Akaashi had passed them, but he had his suspicions that it wouldn’t stay that way. Daichi and Sugawara were also there, celebrating Daichi’s homecoming in a way that made Akaashi raise his eyebrows. He had only been gone three days._ _

__He had no idea where Atsumu was._ _

__Or Sakusa, for that matter._ _

__A smile tugged at his lips, and he tipped his head back to stare at the sky once more. Wouldn’t _that_ be funny. _ _

__The house is warm behind him, and it’s quiet, out here. Akaashi can hear the soft brush of wind through the bare trees, and he shivers, just a little. He’ll go back in in a moment._ _

__There’s a soft shushing sound, and the music and laughter goes abruptly louder for a moment before the door shuts again._ _

__“They said you were out here,” a voice says behind him, and Akaashi almost bites his tongue when he turns to face Bokuto._ _

__He’s pushed his hair out of his face, now, looks more like the man Akaashi’s been seeing on his phone screen for the past several weeks._ _

__“Just needed a breather,” Akaashi says. “It was kind of hot in there.”_ _

__“Ah, house parties always are,” Bokuto says, coming and resting his elbows on the railing next to Akaashi. “Nice out here though.”_ _

__“Little cold,” Akaashi says dryly._ _

__“Oh, you can’t handle the cold, hockey boy?” Bokuto grins at him, nudges his shoulder into Akaashi’s._ _

__“Usually I’m wearing a few more layers on the ice,” Akaashi says._ _

__“Try doing it in spandex and sparkles,” Bokuto says, his voice uncharacteristically wry._ _

__Akaashi huffs out a laugh at that, and when he looks up, this time Bokuto does too. “Damn,” Bokuto says, all teasing and pretense gone from his voice. “That break in the clouds is crazy.”_ _

__Akaashi looks over at him, and his gaze catches. The few stars above them are reflected in his eyes, turning the gold of them pale and shining, the tip of his nose rosy from the cold, the curve of his lip soft and admiring._ _

__“Yes,” Akaashi manages to get out through a closed throat._ _

__“You think it’ll snow?” Bokuto asks, and then he turns to look at Akaashi- Akaashi, who is already looking back at him._ _

__Bokuto straightens up slowly, keeping his gaze on Akaashi._ _

__“Bokuto- Koutarou-“ Akaashi says, his tongue feeling too big in his mouth, his heart thundering in his ears. “Can I-“_ _

__“Yes,” Bokuto says, too quick, too eager, and he takes a step towards Akaashi. “Whatever it is, sure. Yes.”_ _

__“Okay,” Akaashi exhales, and his next inhale is sharp, up against Bokuto’s mouth, because he’s managed to lay a hand against Bokuto’s face, the other gripping his henley a little tighter than is probably appropriate._ _

__Akaashi can’t bring himself to care, however, not when Bokuto closes the distance between them quickly, like he was just waiting for Akaashi to take the first step. They’re almost of a height, Bokuto only having an inch or two on him, and so it’s easy, it’s like breathing when Akaashi kisses him._ _

__Bokuto’s hand is big and warm against the back of his neck, the other on the small of his back, and Akaashi can _feel_ him grin, big and uncontrollably for a split second. _ _

__“Yeah,” Bokuto says against his mouth, nonsensical and sounding so god damn happy Akaashi’s heart almost comes out of his chest._ _

__Akaashi just kisses him, half to shut him up and half because, god, _finally_._ _

__When they draw back a moment, an hour, an eternity and a second later, Bokuto’s mouth is red and wet, and Akaashi’s breath is coming shaky._ _

__“Huh,” Bokuto says, and then his hand comes up, cards through Akaashi’s long hair very gently. “I guess it’s snowing after all.”_ _

__When Akaashi looks up, still pressed up against the warm, solid length of Bokuto, the break in the clouds is gone, the snow is starting to come down, a thousand white pinpricks in the black night, like falling stars._ _

__“Guess we should go in,” Akaashi says, but his feet don’t step back, and his hands don’t leave where they’ve settled on Bokuto’s shoulders._ _

__Bokuto’s hands tighten on Akaashi’s waist. “Maybe we stay out here just a minute longer,” he suggests._ _

__Akaashi’s only answer is another kiss, and then another, and another, as the snow comes down around them both._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's me. i'm aran's girlfriend. (jk. (....or am i.))
> 
> i really hope you liked this! i may come back to this universe at some point, but it will be as a series, rather than another chapter, and probably another pairing. 
> 
> [as always, you can find me on twitter (18+)](https://twitter.com/ohwickedsoul)
> 
> stay healthy, stay safe, be good.


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